Case Pink Book Reopened
by gardenOFeden777
Summary: After finding the pink book and realizing there wasn't a name on it, Arnold was sure that he would never reveal who the writer of the book was until Mr. Simmons gives back the wrong poetry paper and an anonymous poet who has the same hand writing falls directly into Arnold's hands. There isn't a name but with this new found evidence he decided to reopen this unsolved case
1. Chapter 1

" _Roses are red. It's stems are green. I like flowers and all, but not as much as lemon puddin'_ Thank you." Stinky gave a bow in front of the class. One or two kids clapped but all in all it was a pretty awkward silence. Mr. Simmons started to clap loudly, earning the attention of the kids dozing off, making their heads shoot up.

"Stinky that was...very special." Mr. Simmons forced a smile. "Thank you, you can sit down. I'll be sure to add the extra credit on your paper." Stinky handed him the paper with the poem on it.

"Why, thank you kindly, Mr. Simmons." Stinky sat in his seat feeling more happy about himself.

"You call that a poem?" Helga whispered to Phoebe. Phoebe giggled but quickly regained her 'good student' posture.

"Well...would anyone else want to come up and read their poem for the extra credit? There's no such thing as a bad poem." Mr. Simmons said encouragingly.

"That only applies to people who are deaf." Helga huffed.

The class started to snicker behind their hands. Stinky just scratched his head, confused. Arnold didn't seemed to be amused in the slightest, rolling his eyes at Helga. Helga took notice, tearing then rolling up a corner of her paper with her poem on it, and put it in her mouth, rolling it on her tongue. She spit it out through a straw and shot it at the back of Arnold's head. Arnold looked back at her, an annoyed look on his face. She faked innocents, mouthing a 'what?' with a snarl. He brought his hand up to the top of his tall bristly hair, trying to shake the paper wad out.

"Oh, Arnold! Would you like to come up and read your poem?" Mr. Simmons noticed Arnold's raised hand.

"Um, well I-" Arnold was close to rejecting the idea but looking at Mr. Simmons desperate pleading smile, he didn't seem to have much of a moral choice. "I uh...sure." Arnold stood, his cheeks growing warm. He walked up to the front of the class, paper in hand, and started to read his poem.

"T-the Dog and the Ball." Arnold stumbled over his words.

"Oh, brother." Helga rolled her eyes. Arnold narrowed his eyes but chose to ignore her and proceed. He coughed, clearing his throat.

"The dog had a ball. His most favorite of all. It...was red and-"

"Oh, brother. Just put me out of my misery now." Helga grabbed her pencil, making a jab motion at her chest, then fake dying, sticking out her tongue and rolling her eyes in the back of her head.

"Now Helga, it takes a lot of guts to stand up here and present something very special such as a poem." Mr. Simmons tried his best to get his class to calm down, they all laughing hysterically at Arnold's expense. Arnold just blushed deeper. He didn't need to take this.

"Yeah, let's see you come up here, Helga." Arnold countered. The class OOO'd in a 'it just went down' manner. Helga scowled.

"I don't have to _prove_ myself to an illiterate football head like you."

"What, are you scared Hewlga!" Harold mocked from behind her.

"Shut up, pink boy!" Helga looked back at him. He leaned lower in his seat, suddenly feeling pretty threatened. He muttered nine year old appropriate profanities.

"Helga, would you like to come up and read one of your poems?" Mr. Simmons seemed generally interested. He didn't know why she liked to hide the fact that she could write poetry at an arguably college level. Helga rolled her eyes.

"No way. I ain't no flower girl. I don't write poetry! Besides, I don't need the extra credit and I definitely don't need to prove anything to no one. Helga doesn't fall easily under pressure."

Helga stabbed her thumb to her chest, motioning to herself. The lunch bell rang and everyone stood and ran to the door.

"Wait! Leave your poems on your desks so I can collect them!" Mr. Simmons wanted to make sure he was able to finish grading before the day ended. He looked at Arnold, who still stood with his poem in his hand. Arnold handed it to Mr. Simmons.

"Thank you Arnold. And don't worry about not finishing in front of the class. You'll still get your credit."

"Thanks Mr. Simmons." Arnold smiled his ear to ear grin and then proceeded to walk out and into the hallway, heading for lunch.

Mr. Simmons brushed the little hair on his head back, feeling a wave of stress slap him in the face. He walked over to the desks, collecting the poems on them. He reached Helga's desk, skimming through it quickly. He sighed. She had such talent yet she didn't want to share it. It was disappointing to say the least.

…

"I got it. Ew, that's just gross." Gerald used a fork to get the couple wads of paper out of Arnold's tuffs of hair. "It's hard to believe she's a girl."

"Oh, come on, Gerald. She isn't that bad." Arnold leaned his head on one hand. He picked at his mystery meat a little, not really able to have the courage to put it in his mouth. He sighed.

"Arnold, I don't know why you're always defending her. She seems to pick on you in particular. Doesn't that bother you?" Gerard put his hands up in the air.

"Of course it bothers me. It's just…"

"Just what?" Gerald raised an eyebrow. Arnold looked towards Helga. She suddenly looked away from him, as if she wasn't staring at him at all. Arnold tapped his fingers lightly on the table. What was it? Why didn't he give up yet? She gives him every reason to just plain snap. Maybe that's what she wants? Does she want him to snap?

"I don't know. She's...not that bad."

"Not that bad?" Gerald tisked then rolled his eyes. "Whatever. There's no helping you. You're basically a dead man walking.

Helga turned her head hurriedly. Did he see her?

"Helga, you've barely touched your...shaving cream? And a toothbrush?" Helga pushed her lunch box to the side and laid her head in her hands flat on the table. "Oh, Helga. I don't mind sharing with you." Phoebe smiled sadly, handing Helga an apple.

"Thanks Pheebs but...I'm not really that hungry." Helga pushed the apple lightly back in Phoebe's direction. Phoebe frowned. "B-but if it's alright maybe I can come over for dinner after school?" Helga offered. Phoebe beamed back.

"Of course Helga! We're having tacos."

"Taco's? Have you ever even had a taco?"

"We're trying something new." Phoebe shrugged.

"Well it sounds perfect." Helga smiled.

 _RRRIIIINNNGGGG_

"Welp, back to class. Great." Helga said sarcastically but, either way, it wasn't like she would be eating anything anyways. Phoebe looked worried but bit her tongue. It's happened before and it'll happen again. There really wasn't a chance Helga's pride would subside in that time.

…

"Alright, I'm passing back your papers. Everyone did a fantastic job." Mr. Simmons congratulated the class who looked less ecstatic than he would hope for his students. He cleared his throat. "Anyways, tomorrow we will be reviewing over the last three chapters in your english book."

Stinky, would you please pass back these papers for me?"

"Aw, shucks why do I always have to do it?"

"But Stinky...you never do it."

"Oh...right." Stinky scratched his head, went up to the front of the room and grabbed the papers. He walked around the room and started to hand them out. He was down to two left. He looked at the one on the top, it reading Anonymous in the middle top of the page. Stinky scratched his head. Who was this Anonymous person? He thought about it and snapped his fingers. Arnold! His name started with an A. "That's a weird way to spell that." He shrugged, handing Arnold the paper.

"Hey, smelly, I don't have all day." Stinky narrowed his eyes at Helga who was impatiently tapping her fingers on her desk.

"It's Stinky, Helga."

"Yeah, yeah. Same diff." Stinky handed her the last paper, not paying attention to the name at the top. She was the last kid in class and that was the last paper. He did the math in his head. He felt a little proud of himself. Helga quickly stuffed the paper in her bag, making sure no one tried to eye it. She didn't feel comfortable with Mr. Simmons not passing out the papers himself. But it was safe now and she didn't feel as anxious anymore.

"So, I am going to assign you to go through all three chapters and do the five questions in each of the review at the last page of the chapters. Let me get the page numbers."

RIIIINNNGGGGGGGG

"Oh F...fudge. Class dismissed." Mr. Simmons started to pack up as all the students flooded out the door.

"Out of my way!" Helga pushed past all the students, Phoebe close behind her. Arnold and Gerald were the last to leave. Arnold was busy packing his stuff in his bag as Gerald talked animatedly about a game he witnessed last Friday. Arnold really was trying his best to pay attention but his mind was a little crowded with thoughts.

"Hey, Arnold! Are you listening?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry Gerald. I was just thinking." Arnold flung his backpack to one shoulder and held his piece of paper in his hand, curious on his grade. He looked at the paper and was a little taken aback. This wasn't his poem.

"You're always in the clouds. I swear it's like I'm talking to myself half the time...Arnold...Arnold!"

"Huh?"

"Man, what is with you today?"

"Uh...this isn't my poem."

"So? It was just a mixup. Just tell Mr. Simmons that-"

"Wait, Gerald. Read this. Doesn't it look...kind of familiar?"

"Familiar how?" Gerald took the paper from Arnold and started reading it aloud. "I'm the straw you spun to gold as your eyes shone light through my once darkened abyss...haha, wow. You know what this sounds like?" Gerald laughed outloud.

"Yeah, I do."

"It sounds like a bunch of nonsense."

"No, Gerald. Look at it. How it's written."

"How it's Wr…" Gerald's eye's grew wide. "Wait a minute! Arnold! It's the pink book writing!"

"I know!" Arnold took the paper back.

"You know what this means? That she really is in this class!"

"You're right...but wait."

"What?"

"The name."

"What? Who is it?" Gerald tried to look back at the paper. The right corner of the page had been ripped out, where the name used to be. In the middle of the top of the page was the word anonymous written in red.

"Anonymous? Who's anonymous?"

"You know. It's when someone doesn't want to give their name, so they are called anonymous...I think."

"Ok...well, it doesn't mean we should give up. Let's see...we know how she writes. Let's just try to compare that writing with everyone in class."

"We already tried that once, remember? No one had that writing. She must be writing differently when she writes poetry."

"Man, Arnold. I guess this means we're reopening the case?" Gerald looked almost excited.

"...Yeah, I guess it does." Arnold smiled. He was sure he'd never figure out who wrote those poems.

…

"Oh, Helga. It's always good to have you over for dinner. You're so funny."

"Thanks Mrs. Heyerdahl. You're not too bad yourself." Helga said with a mouth full of taco.

"Oh, Helga, please, call me Reba." Phoebe's mom giggled. Her and her husband were always happy to have Helga around. Helga swallowed, finishing the last of her food. Suddenly her wrist watch went off, a present given to her from her sister. She said it symbolized how time and love are bla bla bla. Helga tuned her out on her little speech but was pretty happy to actually have a digital watch. It was already 6:45 and she'd promise her mom she'd be back by seven...though quite honestly she wasn't sure her mom would notice anyways.

"Well, it looks like I should be getting home."

"Are you sure? We thought we'd play a board game or something. Are you sure you don't want to stay?" Phoebe's dad looked hopeful along with the rest of them. Helga smiled. If she wasn't legally bind to her own family she'd swear this was hers.

"Sorry, but I really should be getting home. Thank you for having me."

"It's never a problem, pumpkin. Do you need a ride home?" Reba started to pick up the plates from the table.

"Nah, it's fine. I like walking...though maybe Phoebe could walk me home?"

"Of course, Helga. Is that ok mom?"

"By all means, go! We'll set up the board game while you're gone." Phoebe ran up and hugged her mother, thanking her then proceeded to head for the door, following Helga.

"Bye, Reba. Bye Kyo."

"Goodbye Helga." Phoebe's dad waved.

"Bye."

…

"Thanks for walking me home, Pheebs."

"It's never a problem Helga. I quite enjoy the walks from each other's house."

"Oh, before I forget I wanted to give you something."

"Give me something?"

"Call it an early birthday present." Phoebe laughed. It was nowhere close to her birthday but she was intrigued by what Helga was reaching inside her bag. Helga took out a couple of things so she could reach it. She took out a pink book, her math book, and her poem and set them aside. She then pulled out a small box and gave it to Phoebe.

"What's this, Helga?"

"Well, sometimes Phoebe, you have to open it to know what's inside." Helga said mockingly but all in good nature. Phoebe rolled her eyes but smiled none the less. She opened it and stood in awe. It was a friendship necklace. It was two pieces of a heart with her and Helga's name inscribed in the silver. Phoebe had no idea how her friend could afford such a thing or why she would give her such a great gift out of the blue.

"Helga...I love it! How could you afford this?"

"I have my ways." She rubbed her knuckles on her dress then looked at her nails.

"Oh, Helga!" Phoebe started to tear as she held Helga tightly. Helga blushed, a little startled. Phoebe rarely hugged her and, if she did, she almost always warned her. Helga patted her back awkwardly but she had a good feeling inside. "What did I do to deserve this?"

"Well...you do a lot of things, Pheebs. I just wanted to show you...well you know…" Helga rubbed her neck. Phoebe let go and wiped a tear from her eye, smiling.

"Thank you Helga. I'll treasure it always." Phoebe put the necklace around her neck, as did Helga with hers. Helga was happy. She really honestly wanted to show Phoebe that she cared but...it was hard for her. She wasn't really the "sentimental" type. What better way to show Phoebe then buying her something. Helga got a good enough allowance and sometimes she got double in case big Bob forgot he already gave her some. It was his way of showing her he cared but at the same time not really.

"Anyways, Phoebe, I should go now. I hope you like it."

"I do. I love it!" Helga went to pick up her stuff. She first grabbed her poem until, well, she realized it wasn't her poem.

"Huh?" Helga looked confused.

"What is it?"

"...this isn't my poem." Helga's eyes got wide. "This isn't my poem, Phoebe!"

"Oh, dear. What do you think happened to it?"

"Not a what, a who! Someone has my poem and whoever it is...oh no. No, no, no, no. They're probably going to blackmail me or something. Or worse…" Helga's eyes went wide. "They'll tell him...my…" Phoebe put a reassuring hand on Helga's shoulder.

"No, Helga. I'm sure you're overthinking it. Let's see first whose poem you took. Maybe they have it and we can catch them in time before they even look at it. You didn't even look at it until now."

"You're right...the Dog and the Ball by…" Helga went pale. Something clicked in Phoebe's brain as well.

"Arnold...Arnold has my poem!"

 **This is probably only going to be a one in a two to three part story, meaning it should only be two or three chapters. I want to finish it next chapter but...well you never know. Maybe I'll make actually want to write more than I think. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I shall write another sooner or later.**


	2. Chapter 2

"H-Helga! Should we really be up here?!"

"Oh, please, I've been up here plenty of times and nothing's happened to me."

"P-plenty of times?" Phoebe looked surprised but, after a second thought, it didn't really faze her. That's just what kind of person Helga is. They were currently on top of Arnold's roof.

"Oh don't act so surprised." Helga rolled her eyes and turned to face Phoebe. "And, Phoebe, this…" She waved her hand around her surroundings. "Never happened."

"Got it."

"Now, come on." Helga motioned to the big glass ceiling skylight that lead straight into Arnold's room.

"What if he's home? It's already pretty late." Phoebe tiptoed after Helga.

"Arnold usually goes to tall hair boys until curfew on fridays or, sometimes, stays the night. There's no way he would-" Helga stopped and Phoebe bumped into her back, falling on her butt. "Shhh!" Helga turned to her friend, putting a finger to her lips. Phoebe mouthed a sorry.

Helga got on her knees and peeked through a corner of the glass ceiling. "What the heck? He's home?" Helga's hands turned into fists. "Why is he home?"

"Helga!" Phoebe whispered loudly, pointing at something in the room. "Isn't that your…"

…

"Ok, ok. So we know for sure that whoever wrote this book." Gerald held up the pink book with tongs, as to not get anymore fingerprints on it...even though plenty of people touched it already...and they had no idea how to tell whose fingerprints were whose. "Also wrote this poem." Arnold held the poem up gently with cleaning gloves on his hands.

"Right, and we also know that she writes her poems in pink ink. So we just need to look for someone who writes in pink ink." Arnold placed the paper slowly on his desk that was covered in plastic.

"And we know, whoever this is, writes her poems anamous-mily."

"Anonymously." Arnold corrected.

"Right, that." Gerald scratched his head at that. "You think this girl still likes you?"

Arnold looked towards the poem. "it's titled My Oblong Headed Love God, so, maybe."

"Yeah, that's you all right." Gerald snickered. "Whoever this girl is she sure has a colorful vocabulary. Oblong headed love God? Priceless. I can't wait to find out who it is." Arnold frowned.

"Gerald...do you think it's right? I mean, whoever this is...would want to keep it a secret, right? I mean, she even tore her name out of the page and obviously she doesn't want me, or anyone else to know, that she…" Arnold blushed.

"Has the hots for you?"

"Well...for lack of better term, yes." Arnold's blush got deeper. "Whoever she is is obviously sensitive about her feelings and maybe even worried about her poem going missing." Arnold's expression read guilty. This wasn't right. "Gerald?"

"Oh no." Gerard rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. The 'this isn't the right thing to do' voice again.

"This isn't the right thing to do." Arnold echoed Gerald's suspicions.

"Oh come on Arnold! Don't you want to know?"

"Well yeah, but-"

"And, who knows, maybe she's a certain girl with bows and pigtails."

A girl with a bow and pigtails? Arnold's heart picked up slightly. "Helga?"

"Helga!? What? no, no, no. Gross, I'm talking about Lila. Man, get your head out of the gutter." Gerald laughed. "Helga...you crack me up. Like Helga G Pataki would write poetry, none the less about you of all people."

"Right." Arnold blushed, scratching the back of his neck. "I mean...but why would Lila write this? She doesn't like me like me."

"Well you never know. Like you said, whoever it is is probably sensitive and poetic. I'd say you have a fair chance." Gerald patted Arnolds back and, in return, Arnold smiled sheepishly.

"Still...I don't know, maybe I don't...want it to be Lila...at least not anymore."

"What do you mean? You've been ga ga for Lila for months now. What made you suddenly change your mind?"

"I...don't know." Arnold tapped his index finger to his chin, deep in thought. "I guess...I'm tired of trying to chase something that doesn't want to be chased and, honestly, we might have actually...a little too much in common. But, really, I'm not entirely sure of the exact reason." Arnold answered as honest as he could. He remembered the past couple weeks of his feelings towards Lila. His heart didn't pick up, his legs didn't feel like jello, and his mind didn't go blank in her presents. Sure he'd have a goofy smile and he felt nervous but he wasn't sure if that's all it was. No, Lila didn't do anything to make Arnold swoon, no one has, at least not as much as…

Arnold swallowed, pushing the thought away. "Yeah...I'm not sure why."

"Well...you know what, good for you. I was starting to think you would be chasing her forever and, honestly, I don't think I could take being the best man at your 'ever so' charming wedding." Gerald snickered but it only held back his moderate surprise. It was true, though. After the whole Timberly loves Arnold incident, he seemed to completely forget about Lila.

"Funny, Gerald." Arnold looked half annoyed. He sighed. "Still I...don't think I could go through with this. If she doesn't want me to find out then-"

"Well, wait a minute! Maybe she did want you to find out."

"Huh?"

"Maybe she was the one who switched your papers. It would make sense. Maybe she wants you to find out her secret."

"Well...then why would she not just tell me?"

"It adds mystery, man. Chicks dig that stuff. Maybe this is some kind of witty plan she thought up to get you to fall for her. I mean, I'd believe it."

"I don't know Gerald." Arnold sighed. "It all sounds a little far fetch."

"Come on, Arnold. What happened to you being a bold kid? Maybe if you find this girl you'll end up liking her? Maybe instead of hurting her feelings you'd actually be making all of her dreams come true." Gerald clasped his hands together and fluttered his eyelashes.

"Cut it out." Arnold laughed then nodded. "Alright, maybe. I mean, it is kind of strange I was the one to end up with this poem after all."

"Right? Anyways all this research has made me a little hungry. You got any food?"

"Like what?"

"How about some popcorn and I can find us a movie to watch."

"Ok, I'll be right back. Butter or cheese?"

"Both." Gerald smiled, heading for Arnold's shelf wall. Arnold headed down his stairs, a small skip in his step.

…

"See Helga. They don't even know it's yours."

"Yeah, well it's just a matter of time. We got to get that poem!"

Phoebe sighed but continued to watch from above. Her eyes became half lidded at the sight of Gerald. When he stepped on Arnold's bed both her and Helga leaned back a little, hiding from plain sight.

"Let see. Evil twin three? The Siamese triplets? Nah, too cheesy. Blade four, return of the samurai? No, to old." Gerald felt around some of the top shelves for more movies. He fumbled with a shelf above him and pulled on something, it falling on his head hard as he fell on his butt on the bed, cradling his head. "Ow, what the…" Gerald opened his eyes and saw a red shoe. "Huh? Why does Arnold have girl shoes...I don't want to know." Gerald closed his eyes, shaking his head. He stood back up on the bed and grabbed the shoe, reaching to put it back in place. Doing so he happened to feel for a paper like object that must have been under the shoe. It was a postcard from that one girl back during Valentine's day. He looked at it, almost close to uninterested when suddenly his eyes grew wide. He ran towards the poem on Arnold's desk and placed them side to side.

…

"Oh no!" Helga's eyes grew wide at the red shoe and post card. In any other given situation she would be flattered that Arnold kept the shoe and the card but, right now, it proved to be her worst given nightmare.

"What is it?"

"The moment my life ends forever." Helga put her head in her hands and breathed in deep, taking a minute to let it out slowly. "I've seen enough. Let's go home." She looked almost broken and it made Phoebe frown. Helga stood up, holding her hand out for Phoebe to take. Phoebe's brow furrowed.

"No."

"No? What do you mean no?"

"We can't just give up yet! Wait here!" Phoebe took Helga's hand then ran towards the ladder, carefully but quickly getting down.

"Phoebe!?" Helga whispered loudly but her voice just seemed to carry off into the distance. Helga sighed, looking back down into Arnold's room.

…

Arnold walked in, two bowls of popcorn in hand. He had a hard time opening his door, trying to knock with his foot, but Gerald didn't seem to notice. When he finally did manage to open the door he saw his best friend focused entirely on the poem.

"Gerald?" He didn't turn to look at him. "Gerald!"

"Huh?" He turned and he suddenly smiled. "Arnold! Remember that one Cecile girl!"

"Um, yeah. My pen pal."

"No no. The other one! That imposter one." Arnold raised an eyebrow, curious on where he was going with this.

"What about it?"

"Well I was looking at this postcard and-" Arnold spotted the postcard, almost tripping over his feet to run over, set the popcorn down, and snatch it from his friend.

"Gerald, what are you doing with this!" Arnold held it up over his head, almost seeming like he was protecting it from Gerald. Gerald raised an eyebrow then rolled his eyes.

"Have you actually looked at it, Arnold? Like really closely?"

"Huh?" Arnold brought it down to his line of vision, reading the postcard over and over until it suddenly clicked.

"Arnold, try to remember. What did that girl look like? Didn't she have blonde hair?"

"Yeah."

"She wore a lot of pink."

"Y-yeah…" Arnold felt his heart pick up.

"And she is from our school."

"Gerald…" Arnold looked up at Gerald, utterly speechless.

"I can't believe it." Arnold felt like it was hard to breath. "Gloria likes you. I never took her as the poetry writing girl but she does seem to fit the profile." Arnolds face paled. Gloria? No, he wasn't thinking of Gloria at all.

"Gerald I think-" A knock at his door suddenly interrupted in from his thought.

"Arnold, a little friend of yours is here to see you and Gerald. I told her to come up but she said she'd talk to you down stairs." Arnold and Gerald looked confused. Who would be at their door at this hour? Arnold and Gerald ran down the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

"Phoebe?" Arnold opened the door half way to see his classmate who looked shy in her place of standing. She readjusted her glasses.

"Phoebe!?" Gerald opened the door wider to get a look. He smiled as she blushed.

"U-um, hi Arnold. Gerald." She smiled coyly.

"What brings you here? Isn't it already past curfew?"

"O-oh is it? I guess I didn't notice." She looked around for a minute before speaking again. "Anyways I came by...to...find my cat. It ran away." She stated quickly. The boys looked at her skeptically.

"I didn't even know you had a cat." Gerald scratched his head.

"W-well not my cat...my neighbors cat! They wanted me...to watch it while they were gone. I was thinking since you take in all these strays maybe you might know where it is."

"Oh, that's right. Well what did it look like?" Gerald questioned. Phoebe looked stiff until she regained her composure and answered.

"It's grey and...it has a white tail. It also has white ears." She lied, fumbling a little with her words. The boys looked at each other, shrugged, and motioned her to come in. "Thank you, very much. I was a little perturbed, to be honest. I...I mean, since I couldn't find the dog."

"Didn't you say cat?" Arnold questioned. Phoebe's eyes went wide.

"Y-yes! Slip of the tongue, He he he." She laughed nervously.

"Well we'll help you find it. Right Gerald?"

"Right."

"I'll check the living room and kitchen, you can check the upstairs and ask the borders."

"I can check your room!" They both looked at Phoebe. "I-I mean, if it'll help."

"Sure." Arnold smiled as he ran into the living room. Gerald ran upstairs. Phoebe waited before they both left as she ran towards the attic.

…

"Helga!" Phoebe was currently on Arnolds bed as she opened the glass window of the skylight. Helga poked her head from behind some boxes and walked timidly towards her best friend.

"Phoebe! What the heck are you doing?!"

"There's no time! Hurry up and get your stuff. I'll guard the door." Helga smiled.

"If I didn't know any better I'd think I was rubbing off on you a little, Pheebs."

Phoebe smiled shyly. "We should hurry." Helga climbed through the opening and jumped to Arnold's bed. When Phoebe exited out the door Helga quickly picked up Arnold's pillow and gave it a big whiff.

"Make sure you-" Phoebe stopped when she saw Helga with Arnold's pillow. She blushed, throwing the pillow back down on the bed. "Don't leave...a trace of yourself."

"Right." Helga hid the pillow behind her back.

"What are you holding behind your back?" Phoebe had to stifle her laughs.

"Oh uh...This…" Helga brought the pillow back in front of her. "Um…"

"Never happened, right. Forgetting." Phoebe closed the door behind her, laughing behind the door. Helga shook her head, ridding the awkward moment, and ran up to grab her poem.

…

Phoebe was right outside of Arnold's door when she heard Arnold and Gerald make their way towards her with a cat carrier in Arnold's hand. Phoebe looked at it peculiarly.

"Um...what do you have there, Arnold?" Phoebe pointed towards it.

"We found your cat." Gerald looked at her, scars all over his face and hands. "It wasn't easy to get. Could have warned us that it was a bit feisty." Gerald rubbed his hands, ridding himself of any pain.

"Y-you found it?!" Phoebe looked stunned but she instantly put on the most convincing smile she could muster. "I-I mean-...you found it! Thank you!"

"You might want to be careful about getting it out though." Arnold walked up to Phoebe, handing the cat carrier along with the cat inside. It hissed at her and Phoebe suddenly sneezed. She rubbed her nose with her free hand.

"T-thank you, Arnold. Gerald. I-aah...acho! I'm very grateful…"

"Phoebe you...you wouldn't happen to be allergic to cats...would you?" Gerald questioned.

"N-no. I mean...maybe a li-acho!" She set the carrier aside and rubbed her nose again. The cat hissed as it was set down a little roughly. "Maybe a little. Anyways could I bother you two for a tissue?"

"Sure, we'll be right back." Arnold and Gerald walked down the stairs, once again. Phoebe took the opportunity to check up on Helga. "Helga?" She whispered loudly. No response.

She didn't see her or the poem anywhere. She breathed in a sigh of relief. She must have made her escape already. She closed the door and picked up the carrier, making her way down the stairs. She met Arnold and Gerald halfway, Gerald handing her a box of tissues.

"Thank you Gerald. You two were a big help to me." She rubbed her nose with one of the tissues as she made her way to the door. "I'll see you in class on monda-yacho! Goodbye." She closed the door behind her, making her way back to the fire escape.

"Well that was kind of weird." Arnold scratched his head.

"Yeah...well I guess we can go watch that movie now."

"Sounds good." Arnold turned to head towards the stairs before Gerald grabbed his arm. "Huh?"

"Oh, sorry. You just seem to still have a spitball in your hair." Gerald chuckled as he picked it off his friends head. "Ew, that's just nasty." He was about to throw it to the floor when suddenly the paper wad unfolded to reveal something truly unexpected. His eyes grew wide. Pink inc, curly handwriting

A name.

Helga G Pataki.

Gerald froze.

"What?" Arnold waved his hand in front of Gerald's face. "Gerald? Gerald!" He tapped his friend's shoulder but the action caused him to fall easily on the floor as he fainted unexpectedly. "Gerald!?" Arnold got on his knees and tried his best to shake his friend awake. No use. Arnold grabbed Gerard's hands only to feel the paper wad still in his grasp. Curious, Arnold brought the wad closer to his line of vision before his own world started to swirl. Sure, he was suspicious but for it to actually be true...Arnold paled.

He probably shouldn't have left Gerald on the floor but desperate times called for desperate measures. He ran up the stairs to his room and up to his desk, only to find that the poem...was gone. Arnolds eyes grew wide. He thought for a minute before it suddenly clicked in his, usually, dense skull. Phoebe.

Though he didn't have the rest of the puzzle he knew that this one paper wad, the finishing puzzle piece, was enough to make everything clear. He backed up from his desk and fell onto his bed. It was all so overwhelming.

It almost felt like a tsunami as it all came tumbling down on him, the truth about his tormenter, finally revealed. It was hard to breath, let alone stand. And, just as it quickly started, it suddenly became calm in his mind. It felt like clouds were parting on some big question he's had for so long. He gripped the puzzle piece, this one corner of a paper with spit on it, and felt like he would never be able to let go of it as a small smile appeared on his face.

…

"Have I ever told you how much I love you." Helga felt like skipping, feeling herself overjoyed by the outcome of the night. Phoebe toyed with her necklace.

"Something like that." She smiled. Helga looked at the carrier with an eyebrow raised. They were currently walking to Helga's house since it was already way past their curfew. Phoebe figured she'd just call her parents at Helga's house and tell them she got carried away and time flew by, forgetting it was late.

"So what's with the cat. I thought you were allergic." Helga pointed sniffed.

"It's a long story. I rather we forget about it."

"Forgetting." Phoebe giggled at Helga's imitation of herself. She'd have to make a stop on the way so she could drop the hissing cat off at the old cat ladies house down the street.

…

Gerald awoke, suddenly realizing he was on the couch of Arnold's living room. The light peaked ever so slightly from the window. It was such a peaceful morning. His eyes grew wide after remembering yesterdays terrorizing events. He bolted upright out of the couch, his head spinning for a minute. He was about to run up to Arnold's room when, doing so, made him unaware of what, or who, was on the ground as he tripped on top of them.

Arnold was currently on the floor, before asleep, now awake. Gerald stood up again, shaking his friend out of his drowsy state.

"Arnold, listen man. You need to, like, jump states! I just figured out who wrote that poem!"

"Gerald…" Arnold rubbed his eyes.

"You ain't listening Arnold! It's Helga! As in Helga G Pataki! She wrote the poem! She-"

"Gerald, what are you talking about?" Arnold sat up.

"The paper wad! It had her name on it! It was her! Don't you remember last night?"

"Last night? Last night we came down here, watched movies, and fell asleep. Don't you remember?"

"Huh? B-but what about the poem!? And Phoebe coming over and-"

"Gerald, none of that ever happened."

"What?! Didn't we get our poems back yesterday?"

"Yeah."

"And didn't you get back some other poem from someone else?!"

"Gerald, that never happened." Arnold put a hand on Gerald's forehead. "Are you feeling ok?" Gerald stood up and ran up to Arnold's room, Arnold right behind him. Gerald looked on his desk, only to see nothing out of the ordinary. In fact it looked as if nothing from yesterday happened. The movies were all in its place, the popcorn was gone, and all of their research looked as if it was never there. Gerald scratched his head.

"B-but the poem! It was right here a-and I...I-I...I mean, Helga! She...I mean…" Gerald looked hysterical before a huge smile made its way to his face. He started to laugh. "Oh man, what a nightmare." He dragged a hand down his face. "I thought...I mean, I dreamed that Helga, as in Helga G Pataki, wrote some sappy poem about you and…" Gerald suddenly turned around, hugging his best friend hard before letting go of him with relief flooded into his eyes. "It was so real. I feel like I'm gonna have a heart attack."

"Do you need to go home, Gerald?"

"Maybe...I must not be feeling well." He chuckled nervously. "I guess I'll see you…" Gerald looked at his hands, curiously. He still had his scars.

"Gerald?" Arnold questioned him.

"I'll see you around Arnold." He put his hands back to his sides and left to walk home. He had a lot of thinking to do. Arnold sighed in relief as he walked his way back to his bed and decided to fall back asleep.

…Monday…

Phoebe was at her locker, grabbing her books from inside. She sniffled a little, her allergies still fresh from Friday. She closed it and saw Arnold approached her. She swallowed but instantly gave him a huge grin.

"Arnold, it's a good thing you're here. I wanted to thank you again for-"

"You can stop, Phoebe. You don't have to pretend anymore."

"W...what do you mean?" Phoebe started to fidget with her fingers.

Arnold dug into his pocket and showed her the paper wad. Phoebe raised an eyebrow at it curiously. She leaned in closer and her breath got caught in her throat. She looked at him stunned but he returned her stare almost as if he wasn't fazed by it at all.

"I need a favor." Arnold put the piece of paper back in his pocket. Phoebe just looked at him in response. "Gerald can't know that what happened on friday actually happened."

"Huh?" She raised an eyebrow.

"What I mean is…" Arnold turned away from her, blushing. "If you don't want him to...you know...find out about..." Arnold coughed before looking back at Phoebe. "Helga's...secret…" Arnold's blush got deeper but his eyes looked determined. "Then just play along. He needs to think that Friday never happened, meaning that you never came over."

"Arnold you...you know." Arnold turned away from her again. "T-then how do you feel ab-"

"I think we're done here...for now." He looked down. "I'd like that to be between...me and Helga, if you don't mind." Phoebe nodded slowly. "So, again...if you could just forget about Friday…"

"Forgetting!" She stated excitedly. "Your secret...Helga's secret is always safe with me." She put a hand on Arnold's shoulder, feeling that whatever Arnold was thinking about all of this time he must have been prepared for longer than he might have thought. Phoebe smiled before she let go of his shoulder and walked away. Arnold sighed, relieved. He turned a corner only to collide with someone coming from the opposite direction. His eyes were closed tight as the impact was hard, making him land on his rear. He opened his eyes to see a girl, pink bow and pigtails, wearing a lot of pink, someone who goes to his school, and writes in pink inc, and hear a much too recognized voice.

"Hey, watch where you're going football head." Arnold stood up and held his hand out to her. She grabbed it, a little hard, as Arnold pulled her to her feet.

"Sorry, Helga."

"Sorry doesn't cut it Arnoldo. Next time I might just introduce you to old betsy and the five adventures. So stay outta my way, got it?!" She walked passed him.

"Whatever you say, Helga."

"That's right, whatever I say." She turned a corner, unbeknownst to her the slow spreading smile creeping up on Arnolds face.

"Yeah...whatever you say." He continued his walk in her opposite direction but something told him that, one day, they'd be walking the same way.

…

"Hey Phoebe." Gerald leaned his weight on the lockers in front of where Phoebe's was as she was grabbing her lunch.

"Hi Gerald. What do I owe the pleasure?" She sniffled a little but so was everyone around this time of year. Gerald shuffled his feet a little.

"Hey, this is gonna sound weird but...did I see you on Friday? As in after school? At Arnold's house, to be exact?" Phoebe felt like a deer caught in headlights but on the outside she looked completely composed. She gave him a straight answer.

"Um...I don't think so. On Friday I was just...staying the night at Helga's house...all day, that is. Why do you ask?" Gerald looked understandably relieved. He smiled.

"Oh...it was just a hunch about something." He rubbed his hands. "I guess it was nothing. I'll see you around Phoebe." He turned away from her.

"See you Around Ge-ah...achoo!" She rubbed her nose. Gerald stopped in his tracks, stayed for a good second, before continuing his walk down the hallway.

"Bless you." Was the last thing he said before he was completely out of Phoebe's sight. Her action didn't go truly unnoticed from him as the same nagging feeling didn't seem to lighten from Friday. Could he pass it as nothing? He hoped that it was just nothing. It had to be nothing...right?

 **The End!**

 **So, yeah, kind of a cliff hanger. I know, I hate them too, but, I don't know, I kind of like how it all turned out. If you really want me to continue this then...I don't know, I guess I'll think about it. I've been really busy with my other stories too. I'm kind of stressing myself out but...well, heck, I just love writing and it honestly makes my day when I get REVIEWS from all of you and makes all the stress go away. Tell me if you want more but it doesn't mean I'm all too willing to give it...at least not right away. It might be fun writing more of this, a second chapter if you will, but, for now, I'd like to live in the now and hear from all of you what you think. From, hopefully, one of your favorite writers,**

 **-Eden.**


	4. Ch4 Case Pink Book Reopened REOPEN!

**Case Pink Book reopened REOPENED! Omg, ahhhh! The crowd goes wild. AHHH! ...anyways, yeah, I thought, why not? I'm not doing anything. So, after such a long wait, here is chapter 4 of CPBR! Again, I'm not sure about continuing but at least there's this for now.**

 **-Eden**

Almost a week has past since the incident last friday and the first bell of the day has just rang for class to begin. Helga sat back comfortably in her seat, her feet on the top of her desk and her hands crossed behind her head. She didn't have a care in the world and everything was right with it. She thought of herself as brilliant after the whole incident a week ago. It was like getting away with the perfect crime and, boy, did it feel good. Everything went back to normal, she thought. Arnold was none the wiser and she could continue her comfortable life of loving torture for her beloved. Yep, life was good.

"Hey, Gerald. You think that new zombie movie is going to be any good?...Gerald?" Gerald didn't seem to pay attention to his best friend. He seemed too focused on someone else. Arnold looked passed his shoulder and saw Phoebe. He smiled knowingly. "Hey, maybe we could invite Phoebe."

"Huh?" Gerald turned his attention to Arnold. "Phoebe? What do you mean?" Arnold rolled his eyes.

"I can see you goggling at her over there. I mean, I know we don't really talk about it but I know you like her." Gerald blushed and scratched the back of his neck.

"Oh, uh, yeah...I mean, wait a minute. I'm not…" Gerald seemed to overthink something. "Let's talk about this some other time." Arnold's smirk subsided.

"Oh, ok. Did you still want to go see that zombie movie?" Gerald tisked.

"I would but I'm all booked for the weekend watching Timberly."

"I can still come over, right?" Gerald laughed nervously.

"Actually, I don't think you should. Ever since the whole Timberly liking you incident it makes it hard for me to bring you over, especially when I'm babysitting, you know?" Arnold's brow furrowed.

"Oh...well, how about-"

"Look, Arnold. I'm going to be pretty busy, ok? Would you get off my back?" Arnold frowned and suddenly felt a little uncomfortable. Did he do something wrong? Gerald went back to staring towards Phoebe's direction.

Phoebe giggled to Helga. "Hey, Helga. Is it just me or is Gerald staring at me?" Helga leaned over Phoebe's shoulder and, indeed, Gerald was obviously staring in their direction. Helga shivered uncomfortably.

"Yeash, what a creep."

"Helga, shh! He'll hear-"

"He will not! Anyways, how could you _not_ find that cotton candy for hair off putting?"

"Helga." Phoebe blushed. "We all have taste. I like cotton candy." Phoebe gestured to herself then to Helga. "And, you, like Ice cream." Helga blushed and smacked her hand against Phoebe's mouth.

"We're in the public eye, Phoebe." Phoebe laughed, rolling her eyes, and tried to talk passed her friends hand.

"Swe, whe aw haf favores."

"What?" Phoebe moved Helga's hand away from her mouth.

"I said-"

"Good morning!" Mr. Simmons walked into the classroom late today and he scattered in, dropping a couple of his books and papers. "Shoot, uh, sorry class. I was running a little late. Car trouble." He fumbled to grab the books off the floor and placed them on his desk. He hurriedly started to write on the chalkboard about an assignment they were doing today. "Ok, so we're going to be doing a group project today. Two people in every group. But, you can choose who you want to work with." Simmons turned around to face the class. "This doesn't mean fooling around in class and not working on anything. If I catch you with empty hands then you have to work alone. We're just deciding groups today so you can think of idea's during the weekend. I expect you to be in contact with your partner during so. I'll give you time in class monday to work too. So, get in your groups, this is going to be a creative writing assignment." Instantly, teams were formed by the popular with the popular, the nerds with the nerds, and the fairly normal with the fairly abnormal. Of course, it was obvious, that Helga and Phoebe would be in one group while Arnold and Gerald would be in their own group but, strangely, today didn't turn into that recurring outcome.

"So, Gerald. I thought for our project we could...Gerald?" Gerald stood up, walking away from Arnold. Arnold became confused when he started walking towards the two girls.

"Oh, Helga! He's walking over here!" Phoebe whispered loudly. "Oh, do you think he wants to work with me?" Helga glared at her.

"Well, it wouldn't matter if he did anyways. We're going to work together." Phoebe's face fell slightly.

"Oh, of course." She brushed her hair behind her ear. "Still, how do I look?" Helga wanted to gag at the thought of Phoebe getting so worked up over a weirdo like that.

"You look like...Phoebe." Helga shrugged. Phoebe's brow furrowed.

"Jee, thanks Helga." Phoebe crossed her arms and turned away from her. Helga tilted her head in confusion.

"Huh?" Wait, how was that supposed to be offensive? Gerald finally made it to them and Helga could see Phoebe physically straighten up. Oh brother, she thought, rolling her eyes. Phoebe spoke up, about to greet Gerald.

"Why, hello Gerald. What-"

"Sorry, Phoebe. I was hoping I could talk to Helga for a second, if you don't mind." Phoebe was puzzled, along with being slightly shocked. Helga didn't feel much different towards the idea.

"Oh, ah, no. Of course not, I don't mind." She did. "Do you, um, need me to leave?" She pointed timidly away from where she was.

"Yeah, that would be good."

"Oh…" Phoebe stood up, grabbing her books and walking away from them. Helga looked after Phoebe; the call for help basically written on her forehead.

"Helga, we need to talk." Helga looked up at him incredulously.

"What is this all about, hair boy?" Gerald slightly gritted his teeth.

"We're going to be partners." Helga laughed.

"Stop being stupid. Why are you here."

"I'm serious." Gerald said darkly. Helga could feel herself gulp before regaining her tough girl demeanor.

"You're starting to freak me out. Why would you want to work with me? Is the ol' football head too stupid in the subject of english? I mean, I agree with you, but still-" He leaned in close, whispering to her with a killing glare.

"I know your secret." He interrupted.

"...I don't have secrets." She countered with a straight face.

"Nice pen." Helga looked at her pen that lay on her desk. It was her favorite pen. It was visibly worn out and it had very distinctive pink inc. Her eyes widened slightly and she broke in a cold sweat. She grabbed her pen and moved it to her lap, desperately to shake off this eerie feeling. There's no way he knows for sure! She destroyed the evidence. He didn't have any real proof.

"It _is_ a nice pen, Gerald. What a nice observation." Helga clapped mockingly. Gerald sat in Phoebe's chair, right across from Helga.

"I can either say it loud and clear, where the whole class can hear me-" Gerald leaned in close again. "Where Arnold can hear me." Helga paled. "or you can stop playing dumb, Pataki!" Gerald pushed his finger to Helga's nose threateningly. She swiped his hand away, choking slightly with anxiety. "Now, I'm coming over to your house tonight for our 'project' so we can have a little _talk._ Phoebe also can't know about this, Ok?" She was at a loss for words. "Just nod yes if you understand." She nodded slightly. "Good. See you around five." Gerald got out of Phoebe's chair and walked back to his seat.

Phoebe noticed Gerald leaving and she walked back to where Helga was. She sat back down at her desk. "What was all of that about, Helga?" Helga didn't seem to pay attention. "Helga!" Phoebe nudged her slightly.

"Huh?"

"What did Gerald want to talk to you about?" Helga shook her head.

"Um...he wants to work on this project together."

"Oh...why?" Phoebe seemed less than happy to hear that.

"I don't know Phoebe, I'm not some kind of telepathic freak or anything!"

"Ok, sorry." Phoebe shifted in her seat. "Well, how did he react when you told him no?" Helga stiffened.

"No?" Phoebe's eyes widened.

"You said yes?"

"Well, it's not what you think Phoebe?"

"Well, what reason would you want to work with him instead of me?" Helga felt like her heart was breaking a little. Phoebe gave those rare puppydog eyes. No matter, though! She HAD to keep her secret, even if there was a chance he knew nothing.

"Just...understand that it would be in both of our best interest if I didn't tell you." Phoebe looked at her hands under her desk.

"I'm your best friend Helga. So...of course I understand."

"Thank you, Pheebs." Helga said in relief. Phoebe smiled slightly but her eyes didn't reflect her expression. Strangely, a pang of jealousy overtook her. Despite that, she looked down at her neck, remembering the special necklace Helga gave her and instantly felt better about it.

"Of course."

….

Helga chewed her nails nervously and paced back and forth through her room. Every once and awhile she would look at her clock on the wall and then go back to pacing left and right. It was almost time.

"He's bluffing. He doesn't know anything!" _You're lying to yourself, Helga! He knows, and he's going to tell everyone!_ "I mean, it's not like he has any evidence." _Are you mad? He has more on you than a museum!_ "Maybe he really just needs my help with his stupid homework." _Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Snap out of it! Get wise! Criminy, he's going to sell you out! You're going to the looney bin after this! Face it, Geraldo has you wrapped around his finger._ Helga stopped pacing and started to become angry. "No! No one threatens me! I threaten! I'm the queen bee! I rule the hallways! There's no way, even if he _does_ have some stupid idea, that I am backing down!" A loud knock could be heard from downstairs. Helga's heart jumped to her throat as she fell to the ground. She got back up and desperately tried to slow down her breathing. Oh crap, he's here! _Calm down, Helga. You are NOT going to be out throned! Just keep your chin high and your fists in front of you!_

With shaky legs she made her way out of her door and down the stairs. Another loud and obnoxious knock can be heard.

"Alright, alright! Criminy, I'm coming!" Her hands still shaking, she grabbed the doorknob, taking one last confident breath, and flung the door open, revealing Gerald on the other side.

"Took you long enough!" Gerald had his backpack on his back and a baseball bat resting over his shoulder with a one hand grip on it. Helga's eyes widened, a bit terrified at the idea of him needing to bring a bat. Gerald looked puzzled until he followed her stare. "Relax, Pataki. I just got done playing some ball. I'm not as crazy as you." She raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly. "Are you going to let me in or not?" Helga glared for a few seconds before stepping away from the door and directing him inside with her hand. "Thank you." Gerald stepped inside but once he was in and the door was closed he suddenly didn't feel the most comfortable. Trying to look confident while walking straight into the lion's cave was one thing but to look confident when walking into the Pataki household was basically impossible. To say the least, he got this far but he wasn't exactly sure where to go from here. Helga just stood there impatiently, tapping her foot on the ground and glaring at him with crossed arms. "Anyways, should we go to your…" Gerard blushed slightly. "Your room."

Helga wanted to gag."And be alone with you? As if, casanova."

"Ew! I'm sure you would!" Helga scoffed.

"As if, Gernaldo!"

"Same here, Pataki!" They both were at a stand still as if the clock struck noon in the wild west. Bob suddenly walked into the room, interrupting their showdown.

"Hey, kid. We ain't buying!" He grumbled.

"He isn't selling anything, Bob." Gerald raised an eyebrow at Helga. "He's here to work on a school project."

"Listen, missy, I won't take that kind of sass. If I find out this is one of your little boyfriends, he's out of this house!" Helga wrinkled her nose. "After all, you're only eight. Way too young to date." Is this guy for real? Gerald thought.

"First off Bob, never in a million years." Gerard silently agreed. "Secondly, I'm ten now."

"Oh, yeah, sure you are. I won't have you lying in this household." Helga just tisked. "Anyways, don't interrupt me when my show comes on. So that means the living room is off limits!" He walked back into the living room and sat in his recliner, putting some kind of soap opera on.

"Your dad thinks your eight?" Gerald stated matter of factly.

"Like it's any of your business. Come on, we can go in the kitchen." They both walked into the kitchen where Miriam was stumbling around and struggling to make herself a smoothy. "Miriam, beat it. I need to work on homework." Miriam turned her attention to her daughter.

"Oh? Hello, sweety. Who's your little friend?" Miriam pushed the off button on her blender and turned around to face them, leaning her back on the counter behind her.

"He's someone from school. We need the kitchen."

"Oh, I was just about to make you some breakfast!" She walked over to the cabinets and fumbled with the seasonings.

"No, mom, I don't want breakfast." Gerald shifted his weight from his left foot to his right and looked around uncomfortably. Helga just sighed annoyed as if she was dealing with a frequent daily dilemma.

"Well, it's the most important meal of the day, honey! So, you and your friend just sit! Now, lets see lets see." She grabbed a box of stale crackers and the salt shaker and looked at it skeptically. "Hmm." She hummed.

"Miriam! It's seven at night! I don't want breakfast, and I don't want you in here! We need to work on something." Miriam started to hum a tune, turning her blender back on and continued rummaging through the cabinets. "Mir-i-am!" Helga continued to try to get her attention but the blender drowned out any sound. Unfortunately Miriam seemed to be in her own world by now. Helga blushed, looking at Gerald who looked just as equally uncomfortable as her. Where else were they going to go? The bathroom? She pondered the thought but shook it off and started thinking realistically. I guess she didn't have any other choice.

"J-just follow me!"

…..

Arnold was walking through the neighborhood bored out of his mind and kicking a rock in the path of the sidewalk. He was confused about the whole thing with his best friend and wasn't sure when they were going to talk about the project. He felt like he didn't need to clarify they were doing it together, seeing they always did the group choices together. He sighed heavily and suddenly stopped, noticing the sun starting to set. He was about to turn around when he heard a familiar laugh. He looked over to where it was coming from. He squinted his eyes unsure and walked a little closer. Suddenly, he could see very clearly who it was. "Timberly?" She was playing hopscotch with one of her friends on their driveway. She perked up when she heard Arnold s voice.

"Oh, Arnold! Hi!" She ran towards him, her feet slightly jumpy and her face perky to see him. "Do you want to do some jump rope with us? We need a third hand." She started to pull at his sleeve and lead him to the house but he made sure to stand firm in his place.

"Um...no, I'm about to head home." He scratched his head confused. "Have you been here all day?"

"Yeah, why?" She stopped jumping.

"So, is Gerald babysitting you?" She frowned.

"Why would you think that?" Arnold stayed silent then smiled softly.

"Ah, forget about it. I'll see you around Timberly." He patted her on the head and continued his walk home. She didn't notice the concerned and hurt expression he held on his face.

 **Ok! I hope you've enjoyed part two of Case Pink book reopened and hopefully I'll have the energy to continue. :)**


End file.
